Home About Contact

Return to poetry index

Next (right) Previous (left)

A crooked path

After Robert Frost, ‘The Road Not Taken’

There’s a crooked path through life’s dead wood

That a lonely traveller might see

And maybe at the end I just could

With some little sense, might sense some good

And take me to a new mystery;

Yet wonder to myself if that’s fair

For a way that’s straight is just the same.

Oh, the path bends crookedly just there,

And no matter how hard I stand’n’stare

Can’t see the end take another name.

So, the crooked path leads me away

And lets the mystery take me back

Along a journey through night and day

Which matters little in this foray

For it’s dark along the winding track;

And yet for all that, it seems that I

Must tread the crooked path whence

I came before, and believe that my

Travelling will help me rest and try

To believe there is a difference.

© RM Meyer

Winswell Water, February 2020